


I Need You to Run to Me

by Dont_touch_the_phlebotinum



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:29:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24338170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dont_touch_the_phlebotinum/pseuds/Dont_touch_the_phlebotinum
Summary: After a hunt goes wrong, Geralt finds comfort in Jaskier
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 245





	I Need You to Run to Me

This, Jaskier thought, this was the worst part.

He'd never had the patience to just sit, to wait, nothing but his own thoughts to distract himself from the glacial passing of time. With Geralt out there in the dark somewhere, staring death in the face and insulting its mother just to piss it off, it was next to impossible to think of anything else. There wasn't even anywhere in this backwater hovel he could get good and drunk to rid himself of the thought that this could be it; this could be the time Geralt didn't return. At least if Jaskier was out there with him he would know. He might even be able to help.

Outside, the rain came down in sheets, pounding against the window like drummers marching into battle, and Jaskier plucked at his lute as he considered idly how he could work that analogy into song. He hadn't got far when the door burst open violently enough to bounce back off the wall.

The relief Jaskier felt at the sight of Geralt was short-lived. He stood to step closer to his silent, rain-soaked witcher, and stopped. Geralt's entire body seemed weighted by the bone-deep exhaustion of only the most drawn out, hard fought battles, yet Jaskier could see no sign of injury. He held clutched tight in his palm the coin he had been promised for dispatching the beast, yet still his expression was marred with the pain of a fight lost.

That could only mean one thing.

"The water's warm," Jaskier said, keeping his voice soft as he nodded to the tub by the fireplace, already filled in anticipation of Geralt's return.

He grunted in response. It was the only sound he gave; as Jaskier stripped off his bloodstained armour; as Jaskier took his hand and led him to the bath; as Jaskier began washing the horrors from his skin.

Jaskier would have filled the silence, once. Would have offered platitudes that Geralt couldn't save everyone, that he had saved so many more than he had lost. Would have spoken every word he could think of just to give some distraction from the aching present. He knew better than to do so now.

Gentle, he cleaned the blood from Geralt's hands — not Geralt's own, nor the sticky, foul blood of a monster. He washed Geralt's hair. Worked his hands against the tension seizing Geralt's muscles. Through it all, Geralt said nothing, but he leaned into every touch as if it was some kind of salvation.

As if it was something he shouldn't have.

As if it was something he couldn't resist.

When it was done, Jaskier stood, leaving Geralt to dry himself while he stripped off his own clothes and climbed into bed. Geralt was at his back within moments. His breath was on Jaskier's neck, warm, waiting.

"What do you need?" Jaskier breathed. He felt Geralt's arms wind around him.

"You."

Jaskier reached for the bottle of oil he had already set out and handed it to Geralt. He swallowed back his gasp at the first press of Geralt's fingers, too far from himself for his usual care, but Jaskier could weather it. Whatever Geralt needed, he offered himself up to it. It was the least he could do.

If Geralt could save the world from monsters, then Jaskier could save Geralt from himself.

His hand went to the bedsheets, crumpling rough handfuls in his palm, as Geralt moved within him. It was a bruising, desperate thing, no space for finesse. Geralt's arm was pressed tight enough across Jaskier's chest to crush the air from him, grasping hard at his hip, his face buried into the curve of Jaskier's neck, and Jaskier moaned and clutched at Geralt in return.

He shouldn't, he knew. Shouldn't take his own pleasure in Geralt's wounds, cut too deep for Jaskier to mend. But he had never claimed to be a selfless man. Geralt lit a fire within him, and Jaskier burned so beautifully with each thrust.

He cried out in sweet bliss when Geralt curled his hand where Jaskier could have burst with the need to feel him.

"Geralt," he said, fingers reaching back to tangle in damp hair, and again; each whisper of the name scratching at something primal, something raw, within Geralt and goading him into moving harder, faster. Geralt's own sounds of pleasure were muffled against Jaskier's skin.

The shift came sooner than it did those nights Geralt was in control of himself, his movements turning clumsy and frantic. It didn't matter. There would be time enough for the drawn out pleasure of consuming each other so wholly another night.

Geralt was the first to go, the warm cocoon of his body around Jaskier's turning rigid, as Jaskier followed with a sigh.

He was still panting, still feeling the perfect ache of it, when Geralt pulled away, leaving cold air where he had been pressed so hot against Jaskier's skin. Geralt rolled onto his back, silent. Given the choice, he would have remained that way, letting his thoughts cloud dark and heavy with failures, convincing himself that whatever brief catharsis he found in Jaskier's body was more than he deserved.

Jaskier wouldn't have that.

He pressed a soft kiss to Geralt's temple. Geralt closed his eyes, his head turned from Jaskier, but still he curled an arm around Jaskier's shoulders. Holding him tight and keeping him at bay all at once; the way he had always been so good at. But Jaskier was getting better at slipping under Geralt's armour as well.

"You're a good man, Geralt," he said. He kissed away the fresh tension the words sparked in Geralt. "You wouldn't care so much if you weren't."

And if Jaskier could convince other people of the fact, by any and all the gods out there, he would dedicate his life to making sure Geralt believed it as well.


End file.
